


you hail from hell, my sweet

by sunshowerst



Series: danny and rusty and no one else on earth [8]
Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Study, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29858481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshowerst/pseuds/sunshowerst
Summary: Rusty is a light sleeper cause he wouldn't have lived to see seventeen if he wasn't.or, an alternate take on Danny-and-Rusty origins
Relationships: Danny Ocean & Rusty Ryan, Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan
Series: danny and rusty and no one else on earth [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128335
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	you hail from hell, my sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cleardishwashers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleardishwashers/gifts).



> this is kind of sad and kind of time jumpy. also more ooc than anything ill ever write for these two. in general be warned

Danny never told anyone, because Rusty was the only person he told things to and Rusty knew about this one without being told, because he was the subject of it. 

So, well. Danny never corrected anyone on why he learned to keep his hands steady still like frozen over puddles in potholes of Jersey, because thinking it was for plucking wallets and delicate necklaces from even more delicate necks was better than thinking it was for plucking glass out of wounds of the one person in the whole world that he wouldn't survive being stripped of. 

They're on the thirtieth floor of the most discreetly expensive hotel Danny could've found in the time he was given, and he regretted the added nine seconds of an elevator trip when hauling a bleeding Rusty towards their shared room.

The thing is, he never knows if Rusty's in pain or how much of it he's in. He can only ever try to guess, and with hot shallow breaths on his neck and an increasingly heavy load latching onto him he figures it's really bad. Figures, cause he'll never know and Rusty will sure as anything never tell him. 

When it came to things like self-preservation it was different for Rusty, from the start. 

His dad didn't care enough to stick around, but before that, it was even worse than his absence. And he didn't have a mom. There was no one but Danny and his parents at his high school graduation. 

Danny didn't know much about the rest of his family. He did know Rusty since they were kids, and he knew Rusty was scamming a living since he was fourteen, cause his dad only cared about buying beer and Rusty was just a pest that brought in child bonus money which brought in a case of Heineken at the end of the month.

And a punching bag when the money was short.

(He fumbled with Rusty's hotel room lock one time when he got stupid drunk and clingy and Rusty stayed back to get some sleep cause he never had time to get more than two hours in on the job. 

He ended up sobering up and regretting reeking of alcohol, while rubbing Rusty's back till his breathing calmed down.)

Rusty was a light sleeper because otherwise he wouldn't have lived past seventeen. And he barely ever slept around people. Didn't trust the world to leave him be. 

Danny kept watch of the steady rise and fall of his chest, from where he positioned himself on the ottoman. 

Because at this time of the night, they're all alone on earth, in their knowledge of one ritual they always had when Rusty got hurt enough to warrant a hospital visit but not enough to be above Danny's self-taught surgical expertise. And it was very individualized, his knowledge - he never patched up anyone but Rusty. Danny knew every scar on his skin because he was the one that made sure he stays alive long enough for it to scar over. 

After such procedures to which - so far, thank god - nothing but towels, shirts that deserved demise anyways and bits of Danny's sanity fell victim to, he'd make Rusty sleep it off, like he did now. 

And his deep seated, bigger than the world and the universe, instinct kept him deep seated into any nearby chair, kept him keeping watch so Rusty actually does sleep, for that while. 

Kept watch of his features, softened, his body gradually relaxing and melting into the heap of pillows, strategically placed so his injured side doesn't bear weight. He feels a pang of guilt at the sight of his undereyes and wonders not for the last time how long it's been since he slept in a horizontal position. 

The tattoo he got as a reminder - Danny recognized the design at first glance and his throat tightened, the flamelike tribal inspired black lines off of the bike Rusty lifted to get away from home and the shadow of his dad, and met Danny in the next state to start them off. 

Danny traced over it with his eyes, and. God. 

He can't see them now but Danny knew all the same, of the scars Rusty spun a different story about every time his identity of the month was supposed to be shirtless around the mark. 

(It was nothing as grandiose as those stories framed it, nothing like shrapnels in the war or secret society initiation fees, the littered barely there slits of lighter skin across his back that Danny loved to plant kisses on when they had the patience to go slow, all from the time his father smashed a beer bottle on the ground, stomped it to bits and pushed Rusty into it, leaned on him with all his weight and bruised his ribs on top of it. 

Rusty called him and they spent the night in Danny's guest bathroom, Danny plucking glass shards from his back as Danny's sister kept their parents distracted with a movie she just _had to have them see_.) 

The worst thing about treating Rusty's wounds was his lack of reaction to them, when no one but Danny was around. 

He would at most clench his jaw, and break a sweat across his forehead and collar bones, but otherwise he kept soundless and looked bored as Danny patched or cleaned or wrapped him up, and it wasn't for no reason. Danny hated every second of it, and drank half a glass of stinging amber for every second he spent patching him up. 

-

(That night in the guest bathroom, he had to look at Rusty's face to realize he cried silently sometime during it, judging by the dried tracks on his cheeks. 

"Why didn't you tell me when it hurt?" 

Rusty blanks, and Danny takes that as an answer and prays solemnly that Rusty's dad dies that night and goes to hell from sunday school descriptions of it.)

-

He never told his own parents about it, cause Rusty made him promise. 

( _He said he'll kill me before those people can take me away from him. He said courts take a while even with nice upstanding kids. That they wouldn't give a shit about something like me._

Danny white-knuckle grips the edge of the sink and doesn't say anything to that. To thing instead of one. To the monotonous voice, like he wasn't talking about himself, and has to swallow down acidic bile twice as they wait for Rusty's back to stop bleeding so he can bandage it up and clean the tiles off. But he feels nauseous, and it's not the strong bleach and ethanol smell that's inducing it.) 

-

(He asks Dad tomorrow at breakfast and an hour after Rusty's snuck back out the same window he came in through, if kids really did take long to get in child protection. 

His dad looks like he knows what he's talking about - and he did see the bloodied towel Danny forgot to throw in the washer - and then he nods, slow and sad, like an ending to a hymn. Like he once thought about and gave up on that as well.)

-

"Morning."

"Mh."

"Actually, afternoon. It's three in the afternoon, Rus."

"Sure it is."

"You planning to--?" 

"Only to drag you--"

"Or you could ask me nicely."

Rusty rolls his eyes, and doesn't wince when he shifts on the bed to make room and pull the covers down. 

"Sleep with me, Danny?" 

He chokes on air - very undeserved, that was. Rusty cackles like a maniac until Danny kisses his jaw and mouth to shut him up and he does join him, on the bed, and joins their hands over his heart because they would've ended up there on their own anyways.

-

-

(There's an unmarked grave in Wichita that only Danny knows about, the engraved name chiseled off and left as a crack in mossy stone. All there was to it, the year of birth and death, and chunks of green glass strewn about the grave to catch the sun and start a fire like the one buried in it already lies in.)

**Author's Note:**

> big. huge massive immense shoutout to cleardishwashers as always. most of the reason i keep writing and posting these as quickly as i do. thank you all for the support, comments and kudos you leave on my works! it does help make me write more, keep at it please! see you soon i think


End file.
